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“He has invited me to stay here, at Duncleit. I may make my permanent home here if I wish.”
“Duncleit seems to be a fine keep, and the people hereabouts speak well of the laird. And if you like him, well, I daresay you could do worse.”
“I did not say that I like him.”
“You dislike him?”
“No, of course I do not. It is—not so simple.”
“In what way is it not simple, my lady? Do you intend to remain here? Where else might you go?”
“I could enter a convent. Not Kelso for I would never be safe there, but another house. Blair has said he could secure a place for me.”
“That is considerate of him.”
“Yes, and generous too since he would have to endow the convent with sufficient funds to convince them to offer me sanctuary. But I do not wish to take the veil.”
“No, madam, I thought you may not. We are to remain here then?”
“I… perhaps.”
“I am relieved. I do not believe I could have readily convinced my brother to follow you halfway across the country again.”
“There would be no need, I assure you. I shall be fine.”
“Lady Roselyn, this is Betsy you are talking to.” The faithful servant’s tone took on a quality Roselyn rarely heard. It reminded her strongly of her mother on those rare occasions when Roselyn had displeased her. Betsy took her hand and held on even when Roselyn might have pulled away. “Now please, quit this babbling and tell me what the problem is. You have said the laird is not a cruel man. He punished you but not unjustly. His home is a fine place. So, why do you hesitate?”
“He wishes to sleep with me. I would be his mistress, if I agree.”
“If? Why would you not agree?”
“Betsy!” Roselyn was scandalised. “How can you say such a thing?”
“You may be blind, my lady, but I am not. Your laird is a handsome man, uncommonly so, and it would seem he has other fine qualities also. I suspect there are many here who would readily share his bed. Indeed, were he to ask, I believe I might not kick him out…”
“Stop! Please, say no more. This is, is…”
“My lady, Roselyn, think about it. You have few other options, and none that offer better prospects for your safety and happiness. I believe the laird would please you, in the bedchamber, which is more than many women achieve. He has no wife, so…”
“But that’s just it. What if he were to marry? I would be cast out, ruined…”
“And heartbroken?” The servant’s tone gentled.
“Yes, that too I expect.”
“Why should he ever send you away? He may never marry, especially if you have his children. I understand the Scots are less particular than we English on matters of legitimacy. You could be his wife in all but name, and you are already Lady of Duncleit.”
“I am not. I am merely a guest. Until yesterday I was a prisoner.”
“All here refer to you as Lady Roselyn and it is known you have the favour of the laird. The servants defer to you, the men at arms treat you with the respect due to your rank. Youarelady here, whether you know it yet or not.”
Roselyn could hardly believe what she was hearing. “You speak as though there was nothing at all wrong in sharing a man’s bed just because he has a gentle way with him and asks nicely. I may have succumbed to his persuasive charms once, but—”
“You did? Oh, well, that is a relief. So you do at least know what you are getting. I take it he performed well enough? All was to your liking?”
“Betsy!”
“My lady?”
